


Trust in me

by ferventrabbit



Series: Disney for cannibals [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hallucinations, M/M, Pre-Slash, full-on encephalitis mode, hannibal is a snake, season 1-era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:38:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferventrabbit/pseuds/ferventrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is lost in the jungle. He finds refuge in a familiar place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust in me

**Author's Note:**

> Okay but really I can't escape this Disney thing.

The nightmares were getting worse.

Jack had called him in to consult on a murder that had taken place at the Willard Academic Sciences Lab, where a Dr. Cole Hamilton housed several species of monkey to be used to test drug efficacy for lymphoma patients. Perfectly legal, if morally questionable. But someone - Jack suggested PETA, which Will summarily dismissed - had taken issue with Dr. Hamilton's methods. The janitor found him with electrodes lodged in his ears and mouth, clipped to his testicles and nipples, the charge at full power. The monkeys had been set free. They were climbing over the body and the cages and the pipes on the ceiling, screeching. Some were hairless, others had bulbous tumors hanging from their necks and stomachs, and Dr. Hamilton's corpse lay prone in their midst, arms and legs stuck at odd angles. The word "Mengele" was carved into his chest. 

Will diagnosed the situation within minutes: they were looking someone with no official mental health or criminal history, who had been involved in human experimentation (probably a covert drug trial) that Dr. Hamilton had been involved with in some capacity. Someone whose pathology had been unlocked under Dr. Hamilton's care. He wouldn't stop until all the doctors were dead.

"Okay, Will," Jack said, shaking his head with the usual bemused incredulity that made Will want to punch him in the throat. "Zeller, wrangle Dr. Hamilton's assistant and go over his appointment book again."

"For mentions of illegal human experimentation?"

"Yes, let's assume that's something he would have written next to his dinner reservations," Price drawled. 

Jack sighed. "Katz?"

"On it," said Beverly, and Zeller and Price were left to scramble after her, huffing and puffing. Jack turned to Will with one eyebrow raised as if to say  _what a cast of characters, amirite_?But Will wasn't in a joking mood.

"If that's all then I'll get going," he said.

"I haven't dismissed you," said Jack through a smile tinged with threat. 

"May I be excused,  _sir_?" Will knew he was being petulant, knew that Jack had every right to dismiss him not only from this case but from the FBI entirely. After a beat Jack stepped aside and Will brushed past him through the door, shoving a monkey off of his coat before shrugging it onto his shoulders.

 

His mind was overheating, his thoughts a jungle of impulses and abuses that trickled into his waking hours. Will sat behind the wheel of his car and just stared ahead. His hands gripped the steering wheel with a force that turned his knuckles white. He started the engine after several people walked by, sweeping over him with worried glances. He was like a machine, flicking turn signals and methodically breaking and accelerating. His eyes were clouded. When the car stopped he opened the door and advanced into the night, looking forward greeting his dogs, at least. He almost fell over when he realized where he was, not in the quiet farmland of Wolf Trap but in the heart of Baltimore, the brick edifice of Dr. Lecter's office perched and waiting. He moved to go but hesitated, feeling the pull of the jungle with every step back towards the street.  _Fuck it_ , he thought. He pushed his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose - his "I'm determined" ritual - and entered Dr. Lecter's waiting room.

He could hear voices murmuring on the other side of the door, and once again he felt an overwhelming curiosity about Dr. Lecter's other patients. He half hoped to run into one of them as he waited, to slip into their mind and discover all the things Dr. Lecter had said to them. There was a sound of a door closing, and Will stood up to knock but was stopped when Dr. Lecter strode into the waiting room, briefcase in hand. If he was surprised to see Will the only indication was a tiny quirk of his lips. 

"Will," he said, inclining his head. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but our appointment isn't until Thursday."

Hannibal was wearing a dark green suit with checkered neon patterns over the jacket, his pants striped in gold. He wore a soft pink tie that dipped into a gold vest, pressed and shining. "Where do you even find these things? I mean, I don't even..." Will said, gesturing to the suit helplessly. 

Dr. Lecter didn't answer, but turned around and reentered the office. He switched the lights back on and set his briefcase down on his desk, unbuttoning the jacket in question. "Please, come in," he called. Will teetered on the threshold, suddenly embarrassed. The sound of glasses clinking drew him all the way in, and Hannibal handed him a finger of whiskey and swept over to the chairs in the center of the room. 

"I'm sorry. To barge in on you like this. My car sort of...took me here."

"When we are overwhelmed by environmental stressors, our mind has a tendency to direct the movements of our body towards what it perceives to be longterm or, at least, temporary respite."

"Yeah. Maybe I needed to talk to someone, I don't know."

"Were you on a case today?"

"Yes," said Will, taking a swig. "But I don't want to talk about it. Not specifically." He stood in his favorite spot by the window. It offered him the false impression that he he could step outside with one swift movement. He turned and saw Dr. Lecter watching him patiently, a glass of red wine cupped between his hands. 

"Is there something you would like to talk about?"

Will finished his whiskey and put the empty glass on Hannibal's desk, then walked over to the chair across from him with solemn resignation. "No. Yes." He closed his eyes and heard the high-pitched scream of a hundred monkeys echoing from ear to ear.

"Forgive me, but you seem distressed, Will."

"I'm lost," he heard himself say. 

"And you came here to seek sanctuary?" Dr. Lecter asked, though Will sensed it wasn't a question. He nodded, letting his eyes drift open. Dr. Lecter hadn't moved an inch, but Will somehow felt that he was close enough to touch.

"Maybe. 'Sanctuary' might be a bit dramatic. But then, you are wearing that suit." 

"Deflection is a powerful defense mechanism."

Will shrugged and sank down a little in the chair, exhaustion lapping at every muscle. Dr. Lecter took a sip of his wine, then placed the glass on the table beside his chair. Will imagined his whiskey glass staining the desk in a perfect circle. He made to get up but Dr. Lecter held up a hand to discourage it.

“I left my glass on your desk. I should get a coaster,” he said.

“It is no matter.” Will settled back, feeling uneasy. He shifted in his seat. “There is a technique we could try that might help you feel more grounded.”

Will didn’t come here for a session – didn’t come here at all, really, was _brought_  here – but it seemed inappropriate to dismiss Dr. Lecter’s therapeutic suggestions after keeping him here after hours and drinking what Will assumed was expensive whiskey from his personal stock. “Sure,” he said, his throat clicking as he swallowed around the word. He expected Dr. Lecter to retrieve equipment or a book, a piece of paper, _something_ , but he remained seated across from Will, quiet and poised.

Will stared at the floor, then the arm of his chair, then Dr. Lecter’s pink tie. Finally impatience got the best of him and he slid his eyes up to Dr. Lecter’s face and found himself caught in his uncomfortably direct gaze. Will had a canine sensibility about most things, so direct eye contact was high on his list of unwanted social interactions. He tried to look away but the nerves and muscles behind his eyes were held fast. A confused, frustrated sound forced its way through his lips, parting them. He felt his tongue go dry.

Dr. Lecter was silent, but Will heard a soft, sibilant sound cross the space between them. He wanted to look down at Dr. Lecter’s mouth and see if he was saying something, wanted to call him out about this frankly disconcerting situation and put a stop to it, rude or not, but his eyes remained wide and motionless. He felt his heartbeat speed up, his muscles tense in preparation to flee. The classic prey response.

Then Dr. Lecter did speak, though Will felt more than heard it. “Trust in me.”

Will’s heart slowed down apropos of nothing, his breath eased out of his mouth. As he looked into Dr. Lecter’s eyes he wanted to ask how someone could go so long without blinking, if it was healthy, but then he realized that he hadn’t blinked either. When he tried to he simply couldn’t.

His mind, ever the opportunist, took the stillness and filled it with thick oil, antlers rising up to carve out the insides of a teenaged girl, his body electrified to the sound of animal shrieking, soil pouring into his mouth from the earth above his head. _This isn’t working_ , he said, but the words never quite made it. Instead he heard his breath hitch, heard the sibilant sound pick up again.

“Just in me.” He wasn’t sure what color Dr. Lecter’s eyes were to begin with, but now they seemed dashed with red – was it maroon, burgundy? He found the color fascinating, falling into it as if from a great height.

“Shut your eyes.” Will’s eyes snapped shut and a wave of relief washed over him, making him giddy. It felt good to dwell in the darkness, to let himself exist in the place where his thoughts were born. Normally he avoided this feeling, this drifting. And now the reasons why bubbled up, the slashing of knives against his throat rising up like bile. He thought to open his eyes again, but it was impossible. His head tilted back, reaching for solace.

“Trust in me,” Dr. Lecter repeated, and Will grabbed hold of his voice like it was a lifeline. He felt it insinuate itself into the grey space between each of his vertebrae, felt it run down and coil in his stomach. He arched up, giving it room to encircle him.

Dr. Lecter was speaking again, but the words broke against Will’s skin like ocean water. His eyes were closed but he could see Dr. Lecter clearly, cut out from the darkness. He was in a clean white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The skin of his forearms shone with inhuman luster, dazzling. Will watched the dancing eyes weave in and out of the shadow. He wanted to move, wanted to let himself curl into Hannibal until his lungs were empty. Hannibal.

“Hannibal,” he breathed.

Dr. Lecter was speaking in a different language, he thought, but somehow he could understand. “Slowly and surely your senses will cease to resist.”

Will felt it, starting with touch. He opened to Hannibal’s voice and it was a tangible thing, wrapping its arms around Will and guiding his head to Hannibal’s chest, and Will inhaled the scent of cool mint and citrus with a hint of mud hiding underneath. The sounds of foreign syllables melted into his cheek. “Trust in me.”

He moaned, unbidden, liberated from the fodder of his nightmares. He felt cradled, safe. He reached up and his lips ghosted over Hannibal’s mouth, and he opened his eyes again and let the wine-red slickness squeeze him.

“Will.”

He shuddered, dislodged.

“Will,” more forcefully.

Will blinked, shocked to find that his eyes had been open. He was glued to his seat, and Dr. Lecter was watching him intently from the opposite chair, his brow furrowed slightly. Will took a deep breath.

“Yeah?”

“You seemed relaxed,” Dr. Lecter said. His eyes were dark brown.

Will cleared his throat. “Yeah. No, that was good.” Propriety told him to stand up, but his limbs were heavy, stuck. “I don’t even think I can move.”

“Feel free to remain here for a time. I will refill your glass.” Dr. Lecter glided from the chair and over to the desk, taking up Will’s glass. Will looked and saw the ring of tinted wood where his glass had been.

“I should get going,” he said. He willed himself to move, and once he was up he felt like bolting. “I have to get home to the dogs.”

“Of course,” said Dr. Lecter, replacing Will’s glass in the cabinet.

“Thank you for the drink. See you Thursday?” Will was already headed to the door.

“Thursday, then.” Will turned to nod goodbye and noticed that Dr. Lecter had shed his suit jacket at some point during the evening, though Will hadn’t seen him do it. He shook his head clear and shut the door behind him, stepping out into the jungle.

**Author's Note:**

> Also our friend Siouxsie Sioux did a version of this song that I absolutely adore: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbytZCT4Cy4. We accept her one of us.
> 
> Here's the suit I pictured Hannibal wearing, but more insane and with a pink tie: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/14/22/ed/1422ed76a3dddb1ad963bd7719b71cba.jpg
> 
> Please feel free to send me Disney-related (or other) prompts!


End file.
